Bridgeport Connecticut
Five years later I still think about:
sitting on the wooden steps
of your backyard
in a heatwave
summer wind bangs the screen door shut
your hair against your face, sticky heat
gravel between our toes
sun burned rocks
sweating through my shirt
I can smell your deodorant
damp baby powder
you peel grapefruit into centimeters
and slip it between my teeth
just for heartbeat I can taste
your fingertips your skin
against my tongue
you taste like graprefruit with splenda on top
tart and left-handed sweet
and soap from the kitchen sink
a shield of clothesline towels
girls kissing girls under grey Bridgeport skies
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